


Breakfast at the Bat Cave

by LadyDrace



Series: Junk Ficlets from Tumblr [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Humor, Men of Letters Headquarters, Season/Series 08
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-26
Updated: 2013-07-26
Packaged: 2017-12-21 10:49:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/899437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyDrace/pseuds/LadyDrace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's breakfast at the Men of Letters headquarters. And there are some new additions to their inventory.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breakfast at the Bat Cave

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Завтрак в бункере](https://archiveofourown.org/works/984778) by [fidelity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fidelity/pseuds/fidelity)



> Just… blame [Maddie](http://www.thegreatnarwhalsmuffin.tumblr.com). She makes me want to drown her in cute things, okay?!

 “What the hell is that?”

Dean sent Sam a sideways look. “It’s an egg, what the fuck does it look like?”

“Since when do you eat eggs?”

“I eat eggs!”

Sam scoffed. “Unless they come with bacon and sausage, no you don’t. And what is that… _thing_?”

“Seriously Sam, are you really that stupid? It’s an egg cup.”

“An egg cup.”

“That’s what I said!”

They stared at each other for a while until Dean backed down and Sam smirked. “I know this place is well-equipped, but honestly? I have never seen any egg cups here. And if I had… that thing isn’t really Men Of Letters issue, Dean.”

Dean cast a quick glance down at the lumpy clay… _thing_ that was somehow holding his egg, while not resembling a cup in any sense.

“Cas made it, okay?”

“Cas… made it.”

“Are you gonna repeat everything I say?!”

“Sorry!” Sam held up his hands in a calming gesture. “It’s just… Cas made that… _why_?”

“Apparently _mundane pursuits_ calm him.”

“So he made you an egg cup. Out of clay.”

Dean glared at Sam, daring him to comment, before slumping his shoulders and hanging his head. “He made me an egg cup. And sewed me a pot holder. And carved me a bone comb. And he won’t tell me what kind of bone he used for it! I know he means well, but dammit, I am not combing my hair with something made out of a penguin thigh or some shit!”

Sam stared. And stared some more. And then a truly terrifying grin emerged on his face. “Someone’s got a cruuu-ush,” he sang.

“Shut it,” Dean snapped, his eye twitching. “Or I’ll tell him you really need a paper mache coaster.”

Peace at last.


End file.
